


All That Remains

by FalinMede



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Aftermath, All That Remains Quest, Depression, Gen, Implications of events outside mentioned canon, Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 10:35:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11079810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalinMede/pseuds/FalinMede
Summary: Basically something that popped into my head after I finished the All That Remains quest in Dragon Age 2. Trying not to spoil too much but the whole thing is sad to a point and I cannot imagine anyone being okay with it. Anyway Erissa , my beloved Hawke, has allowed herself to wallow in her bereft state and her friends realize its getting to an unhealthy point and come to check up on her





	All That Remains

He stepped into the mansion, glad for the echo of footsteps behind him. Bodahn shut the door and it was like a whole other world. The bright sunny day he'd left behind was miles away rather than on the other side of the door. The house was clean as always, having not gotten the memo that the heart of the estate was gone. The drapes were closed, the fire dim in the hearth. Varric noted with a keen eye that a few key pieces of furniture were missing, namely all the ones not bolted to the floor. He also saw the letters on the mantle, piled neatly, Orana's doing no doubt. She was standing just inside the room, looking uncertain in her servant role, looking for some task no doubt.  
“Ah, drinks,” she decided on, relieved it seemed, to see guests, scurrying off to the kitchen as Fenris emerged.  
“Fenris,” Isabela scolded gently, trying to add a hint of levity to the air. “Have you not been using the poor girl properly?”  
“I am perfectly capable of waiting on myself,” Fenris replied, offering a ghost of a smile.  
He looked exhausted.  
“Is she still not sleeping?” Anders demanded to know.  
His voice held no hostility, only concern which tempered Fenris's response.  
“No, she is not.”  
“At least she stopped drinking,” Aveline remarked.  
That's right. Varric kicked himself. He'd been so busy keeping the men who Gamlen owed money to off his back and handling what should have been Erissa's day to day affairs on top of his own he hadn't gotten out of Lowtown to check on her. And he knew for a fact Isabela hadn't either. She didn't handle grief well and had very clearly avoided it as long as possible. Merrill as well, continuing her education in all things naughty courtesy of Isabela. But now, there was no avoiding it. It had been a grueling three months and their fearless “leader” hadn't emerged from the estate. Which would have been fine both if the city wasn't almost falling to ruin and she had been taking care of herself.  
“So, who goes first?” Isabela asked.  
She was steeling herself, hands on her hips, back straight. And everyone there saw through her charade. In Leandra, they'd all found something they hadn't been looking for. A mother of sorts. Varric ached for the woman, ached for her surprisingly dry humor and willingness to listen without prying. Merrill stared at the floor, feet in the shoes Leandra had given her when Merrill had cut her foot on glass and needed to keep them off the filthy streets of Lowtown and Isabela's fingers touched her necklaces, the pirate wench seeking comfort from the simple amulet Leandra had bestowed upon her that Isabela pretended didn't matter. These were the only two material goods the woman gave, the rest of her blessings coming from her heart and understanding that family didn't end with blood.  
“We go together.”  
Aveline's resolve was firm and Varric gave a small chuckle as the Guard Captain marched her way upstairs, leading the rest of them. Fenris fell in step beside Varric who chose to trail behind.  
“Sorry that I haven't been here,” Varric managed.  
The elf had taken the brunt of much of Erissa's grief. There was a scar, subtle, under his eye and he knew where from. With each step he shot back to that night, to facing off against Quentin, to watching Erissa cradle Leandra in her arms as the woman passed. Erissa's shrieks of grief, the closest he could come to describing that sound that had come from her, echoing in his head, watching Fenris and Anders have to cooperate to part the daughter from her mother's body, the night Fenris got his healing scar before Anders gave Erissa a small shock, rendering her unconscious. Too soon, he was brought back by the sound of that turning knob and he braced himself as Aveline pushed her way into the room. Erissa was in bed, as she had been since Leandra's funeral. The covers were pulled up over her head, her face sticking out the side. She didn't stir as they entered her room though there was pause as they took a moment to also witness how empty her room was. Just the bed remained, no doubt after an anger fuelled episode on Erissa's part. Fenris leaned against the door, the only movement in the five heartbeats they'd been in the room, just staring at the lump under the covers. Varric cleared his throat, preparing to say... well, he didn't know what to say. For once, he was at a loss for words. As much as a mother as Leandra had been to them all, she'd been Erissa's for much longer. Erissa had fought her way out of Ostagar to make it home ahead of the worst of the horde. She'd fought and almost died because of his brother, all in the hopes that it wouldn't be for naught to better the lot of her mother. Erissa pushed for better because of her family, because after every misfortune to befall her mother, Erissa wanted nothing more than for the woman to live a life of ease. What reason did she have to push anymore? The steady thump of a boot hitting the floor drew the group's attention outward, everyone trapped in their own thoughts. Isabela didn't seem to mind the odd glances she was receiving as she lifted the blankets, her boots in a heap, tunneling her way into Erissa's cocoon. There were groans of objection and a firm “Hush” from Isabela before Isabela's head emerged and so did Erissa's. She didn't lift it but now her messy black hair was in sight. Isabela was not content to end it there and with some more shifting, she sat up, dragging Erissa with her. It was the ice breaker needed as the room exploded into motion. Aveline and Anders went to her side, the mage catching her arm and examining it, clearly not liking that she'd lost some definition and weight. Merrill leapt onto the bed, near Erissa's feet as Isabela criss crossed hers, one arm around Erissa's waist, keeping her in place. They all talked in circles and even Varric wasn't able to filter out the various topics. The gist was Anders lecturing her on her health, Aveline trying to coax her out of bed for a small walk, Merrill rambling on about flowers while setting pressed flowers in Erissa's blanketed lap and Isabela rambling on about what a mess she looked like. Erissa stared straight ahead, her eyes somewhat glazed over, numb to it all, looking exhausted though she'd gotten more rest than any one human should get in three months. Orana ducked in, briefly, to drop off their drinks, bringing a small stool to rest them on since the tables were history, before she left again.  
“Does she talk to you?” Varric whispered to Fenris.  
“No,” was Fenris's response.  
He nodded at the shell before them, subtly.  
“Lays there, takes water and bits of bread when I really insist. Sometimes, I think she moves to the window when I'm sleeping but I can never confirm,” he said.  
He shrugged, trying to hide the fact that he was just as haunted by her grief as the rest of them. He'd spent every day of those three months keeping Erissa as alive as he could, holding her when that grief turned into rage and self loathing, often at injury to himself. Aveline had spent just as long keeping messengers from the Hawke estate. She, Fenris and Anders had shouldered Erissa's grief as much as they could until the rest could be bothered. The realization left a bitter taste in his mouth and he made his way to the stool of drinks, taking one. Only his and another were missing and he spotted it in Isabela's hand, the chalice gripped tightly. She'd switched to talking about a hat shop she'd found, one she assured Erissa she'd love too. Her voice was the only one still going. Merrill had fallen silent, one hand holding Erissa's free hand, her thumb working circles. Anders and Aveline were quiet too, sadly watching, realizing that this last ditch effort to remind Erissa she wasn't alone was failing. Varric still couldn't think of a word to say, his gaze wandering away , regretting that he'd ever left Lowtown now, unable to resign this Erissa with the trail blazer he'd crawled out of the Deep Roads with. The warmed wine tasted bitter and he realized that it was Leandra's favorite, one he'd enjoyed when he'd called on Erissa before and her mother had entertained them. Not Orana's best move, he mentally criticized, wondering how the others would take it if and when they tasted it. Not surprising, Isabela's reaction brought him back. The chalice she'd been clutching sped across the room hitting the wall, wine splashing everywhere.  
“Isabela!” Aveline objected.  
Isabela ignored, her, her hands fisting the front of Erissa's shirt, yanking her around so that she could stare into those dead eyes.  
“Blood or no, she was my mother too!” Isabela practically screamed, the sheer ache in her voice resonating.  
Her words and that emotion stopped whatever objection Aveline intended to make and Varric was surprised to find that he'd caught hold of Fenris's arm as the elf had moved forward to break apart the two. Isabela's breathing hitched and her face contorted as she tried hiding the absolute pain that undoubtedly had been eating at her, her grip on Erissa's shirt loosening a bit.  
“She never judged me, never tried to change me,” Isabela went on. “She loved me. You feel guilty that you couldn't save her? That you were out saving someone else?”  
She gave Erissa a little shake.  
“I was in a bloody whore house!” she snapped. “I should've visited, should've stopped by. I told myself to come see her and I chose to get my rocks off instead.”  
There were honest tears flooding from the pirate's eyes and she fully released Erissa's clothes to sit back on her legs, sobbing, one hand over her mouth to muffle the sound while the other curled in the blankets beneath.  
“I wish I had,” she sobbed.  
“Isabela,” Merrill whispered, reaching out, her hand on the pirate's arm.  
A small hiccup followed those muffled sobs and then a ragged breath before one tear ran down Erissa's pale face. As that dam opened, she turned away from the rest of them, wrapping her arms around Isabela, her face pressed against the woman's chest. To say their audience was shocked was an understatement and Merrill recovered first,wrapping her arms around their waists and leaning in, no doubt with tears of her own that were absorbed by either Erissa's shirt or Isabela's. Aveline settled, a bit awkwardly on the bed beside Erissa, resting a hand on her shoulder. Varric released Fenris's arm, watching the relieved elf as he followed Merrill's lead, crawling on the bed and wrapping his arms around Erissa's waist, an out of character action on his part as he usually avoided physical contact, especially with Merrill or Anders nearby. It spoke volumes of how important Erissa was, how much her emotional vacation had affected him. Anders backed away, clearly somewhat relieved though the healer in him seemed to take precedence as he slipped from the room only to return seconds later. The exhaustion was in his face, relief absolving some of the stress. Varric knew that feeling, stepping forward, joining the grieving as best he could.

 

There was a ghost in the house. Or so it seemed. Erissa lay awake long after her companions had all settled. She was wedged between Fenris and Isabela, pressed against Fenris's bare chest, his grip around her, as always, strong and protective. As if he was afraid to lose her. Merrill was at their feet, drooling a bit but looking content. Orana had brought dinner to the room, a strong broth, and then Bodahn had provided bedrolls for them. And for the first time in so many months, Erissa had allowed herself to come back, to eat as much broth as Anders decided was safe for her malnourished stomach. She'd allowed the girls to bathe her and Isabela to care for her hair which brought on another round of tears, for them both, as Erissa remembered late nights where Leandra would play with her hair while Isabela entertained them with stories of the high seas. She scolded herself for neglecting her hair, the long black locks saved by Isabela's skilled hands. Leandra had loved her hair, had forever been playing with it when occasions arose. At Varric's behest, when she was clean and full, they'd brought her to the library where she cuddled against Fenris as they'd played Wicked Grace. And she felt a hint of contentment, tinged with guilt. Guilt that she'd ignored her friends' grief for three months, guilt to Bodahn, Sandal and Orana who were just as worried about her as her friends. They'd wished her good night and Sandal had given her a tight and lasting hug before she'd retired for a night of actual sleep or so she'd hoped. Beside her, Isabela shifted and she felt the pirate curl closer to her back. No one else seemed bothered but Erissa felt Leandra's absence. But she didn't have it in her to return to that empty place she'd allowed herself to exist in, curling closer to Fenris, forcing her eyes shut, not expecting to get any sleep. Right before sleep claimed her, however, as she had a brief, fleeting thought that she hoped Varric, Anders and Aveline were comfortable on the bedrolls, she felt the ghost of fingers touching her cheek, a comforting gesture reminiscent of her childhood. Tears pricked at her eyes, unshed and they would stay that way as best she could. She could not prevent herself from grieving about her mother but she could avoid sacrificing her own health. Her mother would have wanted it, wanted her to live. And there was, of course, Bethany to think of. Despite her resolve, she slipped and one tear slid down her face, dripping onto Fenris's chest. She sniffled, relief and deep sorrow burrowing into her heart as she realized that the ghost of Leandra, the one that had blanketed her for months, hovering to make certain she was okay but only making Erissa feel worse about everything, was finally leaving, moving on to rest. There were no words to say,only wishes that she would find peace with Carver and Father. It was all she could hope but somehow, it felt like enough. And she fell into a gentle sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> If it wasn't obvious, Erissa and Fenris are an item. And Leandra aka Mama Hawke played a part in all of the character's lives. I chose Isabela as the one with the outburt only because it seemed the most shocking given her usual personality in game.


End file.
